On the whole, Staten Island is a good place to break down (carwise, that is). A few weeks ago, as I was heading out to work, the tire pressure alert lit up on my dash. It's happened before, usually means the pressure in one tire is down a bit. So I pulled into this Shell station on Forest Avenue, pumped four quarters into the air machine, and went to work. I knew it was a bad sign when air started coming out of a seam in the tire as fast as it went in. A few minutes later, it was up on the lift, and Jeff was showing me just how bald and bad both front tires were--despite a recent check-up at the Honda dealership. ("They do nothing," said Jeff, "except take your money.") A couple hours later, and I had a pair of all-weather Coopers on the front brought in from Jersey. Just in time for the snow storm.
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If you find yourself waiting on your car at Jeff's, cross the street to Bella Famiglia for their fresh mozzarella. I was once served a still-warm sample on the edge of a knife. "You gotta grab it in one," the chef said.